TODD MUNSON is filling in for J.
J. HARDONy erf HARDER.
The Beginning
Webster’s Dictionary defines pornography as
writings, pictures, etc. intended primarily to
arouse sexual desire. Its origin stems from the
Greek word pome, meaning prostitute.
And that’s exactly what pornography is -
dregs of society prostituting themselves so its
weak-minded audience can release the wanton
desires that those of us on the “right” side of
things can control.
The Middle
I’ll admit it, I had an experience just like that
“Wonder Years” episode where Kevin and Paul
stole a copy “Everything You Wanted to Know
about Sex but were Afraid to Ask.” I too was a
curious boy, only I read “Pornography Will Make
You Go Blind” by Bob Dole. You know what, the
man on the right was right as usual. One of my
fellow columnists “Munsoned” himself with his
fondness for smut and wouldn’t you know it, he’s
almost legally blind.
The End
Pornography is the devil’s business, plain and
simple. That said, it’s time for me to go. The new
J. Crew catalogue is arriving today and it’s two
for-one-day at Charlie’s Charred Animal Flesh.
CLIFF HICKS is filling in for
THUD MANSON, erf TODD MUN
SON.
So, when I was out biking 300 miles yester
day to get to our next Ultimate Frisbee
Challenge, I realized I was supposed to write this
column on pornography.
Nothin’ like a big hot bowl o’ pom, is there?
I’m all for pom. The aroma of the good ol’
CinemaX, the hangout of youth; can be felt for
miles. You know you’re thinking about it, too.
Not just the bizarre pom, like the “Fat
Albert” outtakes my friend sent me, but I mean
ol’-fashioned pom like your folks used to hide
from ya.
Personally, I can groove out to ’60s and ’70s
pom. Ya gotta love those giant ’fros and big-ass
heels. Disco, my friends, will always be in.
Maybe the university can even get behind the
big pom movement, and we can open Studio 54
in the building I wasn’t allowed to go into for a
time.
I’ll be decked out in a Hawaiian shirt brighter
than you find on Ron Jeremy, and I still think he’s
a shoo-in for next year’s ASUN president, since I
can’t run anymore, and Ricky the Squirrel is
lodging a protest complaint
Off I go to bike down the Interstate wearing
no more than my helmet and pads. Woo-hoo!
A.L. FORKNER is filling is for
STIFF BRICKS, er, CUFF HICKS,
Pom takes a high toll on its users. And the
high toll isn’t going away anytime soon.
Not as long as Bill Gates and Microsoft con
tinue to monopolize and dominate the online
pom industry.
It’s a little known fact, but Microsoft didn’t
really make its fortune through it’s operating sys
tems. Oh no, it was the pioneer in online pornog
raphy.
I mean, c’mon, look at the guy. Tell me you
don’t look at Bill Gates and think, “Hey, that
looks like a pom user!”
Because of Gates and his unfair business
practices, the average online pom consumer has
to pay an average of 32 percent higher than nec
essary.
In fact, Gates’ pom monopoly is one of the
main factors as to why Windows has achieved its
success.
Internet Explorer, which comes bundled (ille
gally) with the Windows operating system is
designed to download and play pornographic
materials faster than Netscape’s Navigator.
So, as we can once again see, Gates and
Microsoft have illegally cornered and controlled
yet another online market. It’s not fair and Gates
is gonna pay.
TIM SULLIVAN is filling in forA.L.
FUCHNER, er, FORKNER.
The other day my friend and I were having
lunch at Hookers. She got pretty perturbed with
the way I kept ogling the waitresses, and she
started hurling vicious insults at me.
“Pervert! I’ll bet you shop at Pristina’s and
hang out all night at die CinemaSex in the peep
show booths,” she said, uncrossing her legs and
crossing them again, giving me a classic Sharon
Stone “Basic Instinct” shot.
“You’re wrong,” I snarled. “I do not.”
“Liar! You remember our first date? When
you took me to your place? Remember me find
ing your love doll in the closet? The ‘pump’ thing
under the sink in the bathroom? And what about
the 10,000 porno magazines and pictures of
naked women covering every square inch of wall
space in your entire apartment?”
“Look, Lusty,” I said, getting maddeningly
aroused just talking about it, “Just because I have
a few men’s magazines and a couple of toys (boy
am I glad she didn’t go in the other closet) does
n’t mean I shop at Pristina’s or spend all night at
the CinemaSex. For your information, I buy my
porno mags online and spend all day at
CinemaSex!”
ERIN REITZ is filling in for LIMP
PULLAGAIN, erf TIM SULLIVAN
I’d like to tell you about a friend of mine
who’s run into some trouble lately. He’s being
discriminated against and I can’t figure it out.
Ipso facto.
Maybe it’s because he’s got long hair. Maybe
it’s because he doesn’t know what “tort” means.
And maybe it’s because he’s a law student by day
and pom star by night. Quid pro quo.
If you’ve been paying attention to C-Span 2
for the last couple of hours, you’re aware that
there’s a bill on the floor of die Senate,
LB967,098.12Wicky-WackyD-spot3, also
known as the “Shorn for Pom” bill. Amicus curi
ae!
In essence, this bill would end my friend’s
prosperous pornography career if he refuses to
cut his ass-length, shiny, shiny platinum blonde
hair. OBJECTION!
To figure out what we could do to help him,
another friend of mine and I sat down in my
apartment and consumed 96 oz. of Everclear.
Each.
Loaded with enough hard liquor, we found
that we could no longer distinguish between the
men and women in “Monkey Lovin’Yo’ Mama,”
and therefore, no one needs a haircut!
LEGALESE! LEGALESE! LEGALESE!
If you’re willing to fight for your favorite
long-haired pom stars, call your U.S. senator and
tell ’em where to shove it. I know I will.
The prosecution rests.
AL.FORKNER is also filling in for
TEARIN RIGHTS, er, ERIN REITZ
As you have probably guess, I am very
opposed to pornography.
First of all, it’s a gross objectification of
women. I’d like to see how some big, fat truck
driver would like to lay there with his knees
behind his ears while a sleazy guy with too many
gold chains took his picture.
However, my biggest beef with the pom
industry is the shoes. Most of the women por
trayed in these sleaze-fests aren’t even wearing
shoes.
What’s the deal?
The one possibly redeeming factor is over
looked. And when they do wear shoes, ugh, what
nasty shoes they wear. Do they honestly believe
that 6-inch stiletto heels go with a Catholic
school girl’s outfit? Worse yet, they actually com
bined white canvas sneakers with pink crotchless
panties.
Can you imagine?
Now, if they coordinated the footwear with
the lingerie a little better, these women would
maintain a shred of their dignity.
For example, instead of thigh-high latex
boots with a red lace teddy, how about red
pumps? Pumps are more comfortable, practical
and easier to clean.
So Mr. Hefner, Mr. Flynt, I hope you’re both
reading. I hope you can see to stop the filth. Or at
least better coordinate the footwear.
KASEYKERBER is filling is for
PLAY FISH, er, JAY GISH
A lot of people have opinions on pornogra
phy.
You have opinions. I have opinions. That guy
down the street with the really big binoculars cer
tainly has opinions.
That’s not what I’m concerned about. It’s
when we start arguing about these opinions that I
see the most danger.
It’s not when someone says that they consider
“Basic Instinct’s” bedroom scenes erotic art. It’s
when they argue with someone else, introducing
a variety of uncalled-for “yo mama” references
that I think things go too far.
Too many people are trying on a
Wonderdress. Let’s be honest - you don’t need
one. In the world of pornography a Wonderdress
is nothing more than a skimpy little thing that
goes well with knee-high boots and a neon green
halter-top.
We shouldn’t argue. Pom is just too valuable
to argue about.
We should all be more civil, talk out our pom
differences and then, to butcher Rodney King:
“all just get along,” or via pornography: “all just
get it on.”
JAY GISH is filling in for MUTT
PATMYSON, er, MATT PETERSON
The quandary of pornographic gratification
vs. freedom of expression suffers allows one
institution to be held responsible: our American
federal administration. I’m prepared to supply
various remnants of obscure information which
will implicate our government in systematic
oppression, including but not limited to porno
graphic distribution.
Of course, publication of salacious materials
by individuals or institutions of our free press are
admissible in my book; I wouldn’t stop short of
advocating emissions of every sort due to the
enjoyment of the free press. It is the fat cats
embroiled in this perverseness I disesteem, and I
call for their timely denouement.
I must apologize if any of the preceding was
reprehensible to you, the readers of this publica
tion. I generally avoid writing my columns in
such a manner; I at least attempt to make them
tedious enough to revolt your attention. I will
, shudder if my elitism has receded whatsoever. I
also apologize if you found anything here the
least bit humorous. I avoid the jocose; it is for the
human proletariat, of which I only purport to be a
champion and constituent.
Finally, forget that I ever addressed you, the
reader, directly. End transmission.
8
MATT PETERSON is filling in for
KRAZEY CORNCOB, er9 KASEY
KERBER
Hey diddley ho, readers.
I’d like you to forget about your own pam
pered, self-absorbed, silver-spoon-up-your-butt
existence for a moment and consider die plight of
someone less fortunate than yourself.
Sure this isn’t the sort of thing anyone likes to
do (I certainly didn’t enjoy writing this column).
But I don’t give a good gosh dam what you like
or don’t like because you’re an egotistical, snot
nosed punk, and you should really hear me out.
* . Perhajw^ymi^'feffiniarrwidi^-sortTTfpcr ~
Son I believe deserves your attention. Maybe
you’ve spent a quiet evening alone with him.
Admired his suave and witty repartee. Laughed
at him. Envied him. Climaxed with him.
I’m talking about the down-and-out pom
king - men like Long John Silver and Johnny
Wad (a.k.a. John Holmes).
Men without jobs.
Men without dignity.
Men who have nothing substantial left to
hang onto in their lives... save for enormous
genitalia.
Few people realize that the average career of
a pom king lasts only about 10 years, and the pay
scale in the pom industry has long treated men
like second-class talent. What’s more, the expen
sive tastes and drug addiction that inevitably
accompany the pom-king lifestyle don’t really
facilitate saving money.
Typically, these men choke on their own pre
mature estimations of themselves, tripping over
their fading potency as they are discharged from
the cold and indifferent pom industry.
Consequently, many former stars join our
nation’s homeless, forced to pitch their tents on
city streets and spend what little money they have
on orthopedic underwear.
That’s why I’m devoting the remainder of my
tenure as a member of the Residence Hall
Association to my vision of a special-interest res
idence hall floor dedicated to down-and-out pom
kings.
It may not be a solution, but it’s a beginning.
And if this step is the only one taken on campus,
at least I’ll know that I’m a full 12 inches closer
to the solution.